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Now, in slow motion, I saw it happen again.
The way Toni had stared at me, the anger and betrayal in her eyes. The pain. Then had come the panic as the cops had closed around her. The hurt under the fury when she'd told them not to touch her.
“Have fun,” Marcum said, interrupting my mental reverie. “Explaining, I mean. Once I find Isadora – and I will – have fun explaining to her why her intelligent, caring, assistant is in jail. Why Toni Gallagher will never be a psychiatrist. Congratulations. You helped ruined that girl's life. Have a good day, Mr. Lang.”
I stumbled backward and barely managed to catch myself on the couch. “That’s…shit. She’s…”
But Marcum was already gone.
I shook my head and focused on what I knew. Marcum was speculating. I had a good investigator.
He had pictures.
I looked down. My gaze landed on one of them. It was Toni. Toni and that brother of hers. An older woman, it had to be her mother, bent over both of them from behind while the two siblings were sitting down. The picture caught them laughing.
“Fuck, what were you doing, Kowalski, family portraits?”
It’s family di
Toni’s voice echoed in my ear.
The way her voice had caught. The pain in the words.
Once again, I saw her driving her fist into the cop’s nose.
Slowly, I stood up. I made my way over to the cabinet and helped myself to a bottle. It wasn’t my favorite bourbon, but it didn’t matter. I carried it over to the couch and sat down.
The burn of that first drink didn’t undo anything.
So I had another.
Then a third.
Somewhere along the way, I passed out.
Then I woke up and it was dark, so I had another drink because I could still think, still remember.
I could even still hear Toni’s voice. It’s family…
At some point, I finally passed out and this time, I stayed that way.
***
I lurched awake, unsure what had pulled me from the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness.
A knock on the door?
I practically bolted to my feet, and the second I did, I regretted it.
My stomach rebelled and I swayed, slamming both hands against the wall as I struggled to stay upright, as I tried to make my stomach stay in control.
What was…?
My head abruptly cleared. Oh, the pain was still there. Plenty of that. And the headache, the nausea, the misery…
But I could think.
I’d heard something.
A knock.
Shuffling on stiff legs, I moved into the hallway and stared at the front door. Doug wasn’t here. None of the staff were. I’d given them the weekend off. Normally, Doug wouldn’t have left no matter what, but he’d overheard me going over what I pla
Toni. I saw her driving her fist into the officer’s face.
I heard her voice as she said, It’s family di
“Son of a bitch!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the empty house. My headache pounded harder and harder and I bent over, thinking I might get sick. I deserved it.
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I straightened. I had to brace a hand on the wall to do it, but I was upright. I took one shambling step, then another. Out into the foyer. I squinted at the door.
Somebody had knocked.
That was what woke me up.
Somebody had knocked.
Swearing, I opened the door.
Nobody.
Absently, I glanced down. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen it.
But there it was.
A large padded manilla envelope, crumpled and battered, like it had been mailed to hell and back.
Mouth dry, I bent down and picked it up.
Blood started to roar in my ears and it wasn't from the alcohol. I knew what it was without needing to see my name scrawled in black marker on the front of it.
I half fell against the door to shut it as I opened the envelope with shaking hands.
“Sir—”
I vaguely recognized Doug’s voice. I’d been wrong. He hadn’t left.
Several things fell out.
“Sir, you shouldn’t touch—”
“Shut up,” I said dully as I sank to my knees.
The thick, gleaming locks were tied together messily with a piece of what looked like twine. I had no trouble recognizing the heavy curls.
“Iz,” I whispered, broken.
“I’ll call the police.” Doug’s voice was quiet, oddly gentle.
My hand shook as I picked up the folded paper that had also fallen out and read it.
Printed on plain paper, block letters, it listed demands, simple and stark. Money in exchange for Isadora.
I read it through once, twice, three times.
I’d be contacted.
I’d better be ready.
The letter fell from my numb hands as I sat down. It was only then that I noticed the other envelope that had also dropped to the floor. It was smaller, bound closed with rubber bands. I picked it up.
Doug's voice came from above me. “If I tell you again, you shouldn’t touch, will you listen?”
“No.” I was careful though, only touching the rubber bands as much as I had to, handling only the edges of the envelope. Once I had it opened, though, the weight of its contents did the rest.
Photographs spilled out. Dozens of them. My eyes tracked over them, trying to make sense of what I was looking at.
It was Doug who started to reach out this time. I caught his wrist just before he would have touched the one lying nearest to us. The very sight of it chilled me right to the bone. It was Isadora and me, her hand tucked inside mine. I couldn’t see either of our faces, but it was no puzzle as to who it was. It was us.
So was the next one, and the next one…
More than a dozen.
“Some of these are old,” Doug said softly.
I nodded, staring at the photo of the younger images of my sister and me. Standing together, dressed in our finest, as we went to visit our parents' graves. It had been raining that year. I didn't remember anybody photographing us. But then again, I wouldn’t have. Not on the a
Whoever had taken this had wanted to make sure they weren’t seen. There was something stealthy, secretive, about the pictures.
That feel was echoed in every last one of them, reading right up to the most recent one. It, like the others, had been taken on the a
It didn't matter if that one had been taken before or after Isadora and I met Toni. Even if she'd been some mastermind criminal and had been stalking us for months, there was no way she could've taken those old photographs. She would've only been twelve or thirteen when the first one had been taken. Her brother wouldn't have been much older. Their involvement didn't make any sense.
I closed my eyes, but I could still see the hurt on Toni's face. “What in the hell have I done?”
Marcum's voice answered my rhetorical question. Congratulations. You helped ruin that girl's life.
Continues in Blindfold Vol. 2, release September 25th. Click Here to received an email reminder on release day.
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